Happy Birthday, Bonny Lass
by perclexed
Summary: No, he remembers. He has to remember.


This was a hard story to write. It morphed into something else entirely during the writing, based on comments from my lovely, my gorgeous, my incredibly helpful and generous beta readers Tehomet, Somniare and Owlbsurfinbird. Especially Owlbsurfinbird, who asks really thought provoking questions, all of which made this story immeasurably better.

Skip to the end notes for a spoiler/source for this story concept.

This story is set between Series 8 and Series 9.

* * *

For the most part, Laura reflects, her life has been a good one. She had a happy childhood, and has a good relationship still with her family. She studied at the very same elite university that causes Robbie so much irritation. She has made a success of her chosen career, has excellent friendships with many people, and even has a few serious relationships under her belt.

So perhaps she shouldn't complain too much about the date.

It's not Robbie's fault that Laura's birthday is the same day of the year Val died.

Laura'd never bring it up, because any reminders of that truly horrible day shadow Robbie's eyes with a pain that hurts her heart to see. Laura had known Val a bit through the social events that are always required for work, and had enjoyed her company enough that Laura had invited the couple to her birthday party.

For reasons obvious, they never made it to the event, and Laura's never mentioned it again to Robbie. She'd never voluntarily cause him pain if she can help it, and it's a reminder that would serve no function except to toss him into the swirling maelstrom of loss and despair that he's worked very hard to free himself from, since he's been back.

Laura'd been hesitant, that year after he returned from BVI, to actually invite him to the landmark birthday party. She wasn't really sure if he remembered, but he showed up cheerfully enough, even if he and Hathaway retreated to the quiet of the garden swing not long after arriving. From what she remembers, anyway. That had been a very good birthday, after all. She still doesn't regret that hangover.

Fast forward to all these years later, and she and Robbie have finally, finally got together. And it's been good. It's been very good. Sure, there've been a few bumps in the road. The first few months had been filled with a delirious kind of bliss, even with the upheaval of Robbie's retirement and combining their households.

In the wake of his retirement though, wrapped up in one another as they were, they'd lost track of James. The younger man had tendered his resignation, efficiently worked out his notice period, and softly and quietly slipped out of their lives. Laura is ashamed to admit that she thought it'd be easier, having James out of the picture for a bit. Just until she and Robbie settled in to their new lives together. But as the weeks had turned into months, with no contact from James, a peculiar kind of hurt seemed to grow in Robbie. He was quieter, less likely to smile, and more solemn with each passing day.

And he was so withdrawn that first anniversary of Val's death that he'd spent with Laura. He'd apologized, quietly, over dinner a few days before the date. "I'm sorry, love. I'm… well, to be honest, I'm a bit down, and I know I'm not the best of company right now." The double blow of James being AWOL and his guilt over moving on with someone other than Val had affected him more than Laura had anticipated.

"It's fine, Robbie," she says as she reaches across the table for his hand. "I'm a big girl. Every day with you is a celebration. Sometimes it's even an adventure for my taste buds," Laura says cheekily, and she's rewarded with a half-hearted glare and a small smile. "This one day needn't be any more special than the others."

It'd been hard, watching him struggle, and she'd quietly shelved any birthday celebration plans, just being there for Robbie when he returned from the churchyard, subdued and avoiding her eyes. No, instead of making a big deal out of it, she told herself it didn't matter if he wasn't able to join her in celebration. It was just a day, after all.

Instead of making a fuss, she instead created a comforting dinner at home - a rich stew with crusty bread, a good wine and a shot of something extra in the mugs when they curled up together in front of the fire and the telly at the end of the evening.

She's had worse birthdays in her life, God knows. And it had been nice, finally being able to help Robbie through the worst of his pain that year. It was not exactly the gift she would have chosen for herself, but it was lovely to finally be able to reach out, and draw him into an embrace that demanded nothing and offered all the comfort she could muster.

Laura may work nearly exclusively on the dead, but she's still a healer to her core.

It had been nice, and Robbie had obviously appreciated it. The time until the new year had been sweet, gentle, and he'd held her like something precious. Like she'd break or disappear if he held her too tightly, too roughly. He'd eventually gotten over his fear, but their relationship had deepened that December, their understanding of one another enriched in some undefinable way.

But Robbie hadn't really perked up until they learned James was back in town. Intellectually, Laura knows how important the two men are to one another. They're not truly inseparable, as they're obviously both able to operate perfectly well on their own, for extended periods of time, even. But the synergy between the two of them is just as strong, if not stronger than ever. You could sail a fleet of ships on the undercurrent that thrums between the two of them, and it's been there nearly from the very beginning.

Laura remembers. She was there. If she's being entirely honest, it's something she's long been jealous of and it's only worse now that she and Robbie are together.

To this day, she's still not sure if she's angry or relieved that Jean Innocent brought Robbie back to the force. He's more the man she fell in love with, that's for sure, but she supposes she'd got used to knowing he'd probably be waiting at home for her with a nice glass of wine, or coffee, depending on the hour.

Laura isn't blind. She knows that he was adjusting rather poorly to being retired, but she figured he might settle down into a hobby after finally dealing with that damn canoe. There are plenty of other people of her acquaintance who have settled in after a couple of years of feeling out of sorts, and they've all said that they would never go back.

Trust Robbie to be the statistical outlier.

No, it's obvious that Robbie's not quite ready to turn in his warrant card for good. And heavens know James had needed him. He may never admit it, proud and stubborn and determined to be successful on his own terms, but she'd seen how tightly he'd been wound during that case with the brain surgeon. James is a brilliant detective, and will only get better as he gets more leadership experience. He's even slowly, but surely, building a relationship with his latest sergeant, which brings a nice sort of glow to Laura's heart when she thinks about it.

It's nearly enough to cancel out his seemingly casual cruelty during that case. Robbie had told her, after Crevecoeur, about James' caustic commentary when Robbie had discovered his involvement with one of the primary suspects in the case. However, she never thought _she'd_ be the target of James stinging remarks. Enough time has passed that she's forgiven him for his pointed observations about Robbie's return to the force. She knows him well enough to understand that he often goes on the offensive when he's disappointed in himself, lashing out at those he subconsciously knows love him and will forgive his boorish behaviour, who will see it for what it is: an attempt to purge the uncomfortable feelings within himself. He is and she hopes he'll always be a dear friend.

It's not like she's really got a choice about it anyway.

They'd weathered the yearly period of remembrance for Val, they've adjusted to James being back in their lives after over a year of being absent, and it's Friday afternoon.

And her birthday is tomorrow.

She's feeling pretty good about it, even as it's a reminder that time feels like it's passing faster every year. So she's smiling as she strides down the station corridors in the early evening, ready to get home after a very long day at work, looking for her love.

Especially since she can hear his voice up ahead, around the corner. She slows as she hears her name mentioned, pausing and listening intently. He's speaking with James, near the water cooler, and they aren't taking any pains to keep their voices down.

"So what are you and the good Doctor up to this weekend?" She can practically see the facetious, inquiring look on James' face.

"Why would we be up to anything?" Robbie asks, curious, and Laura can feel the smile slide right off her face. "I mean, you know I visit Val that day, but other than that I don't think we've got anything planned."

There's a long, long pause, and she can practically feel James plotting his way gingerly through the emotional minefield the conversation's become. "Look, it's not my place to say anything," James finally says, then pauses.

"Oh, just say it," Robbie says, irritation growing.

James takes a deep breath. "Well, it's just… what did you do last year?"

Robbie's voice is still irritated when he responds. "I went to visit Val, and then me and Laura had a quiet night in."

"But what'd you get her?"

"Val? Flowers, same as always." Robbie's voice is practically broadcasting 'danger!' signals, and she can hear his patience wearing thin.

Frankly, so is hers. They've known each other now for decades, been very good friends for years, and they've been in a relationship and living together now for well over a year. He's one of the best detectives she knows, able to piece together the most random of clues into a picture that always reveals the answer to their cases.

And he can't remember her birthday?

No, he remembers. He has to remember.

"No, I meant Doctor Hobson." James voice is steady, but there's a note in it that sounds an awful lot like, 'you poor bastard'.

"Not that it's any of your business, but why would I need to get Laura anything?"

Laura turns and sags against the wall, burying her face in her hands. This is all somehow that much worse, seeing as it's James showing Robbie the error of his ways. Of all the people, it has to be James.

Who is speaking slowly, as if he can't believe he has to say it out loud. "Because it's her birthday? December the 19th. That's Laura's birthday," James says, still speaking slowly.

"I know."

"Did you really not… I mean… but last year?"

There's a long, long pause that's not entirely comfortable. "She said it didn't matter, that she knew it was a hard day for me, and that she didn't need a celebration."

" _Robbie_." There's a wealth of pity and more than a touch of exasperation in James' one word reply. "What else is she supposed to say?" James continues, reticence obvious in his voice as he says, "It rather takes away from the magic of the day if you have to remind those important to you that it's your birthday." He hurries on before Robbie can ask the obvious question. "And she knows what that date means to you."

"She does," Robbie says, but it's distracted and frankly Laura's heard enough. She retreats as quickly and quietly as she can back down the corridor, and darts into an unoccupied cubicle in the ladies, practically slamming the door behind her.

Not once, not once in all those years she'd waited for him has Robbie Lewis reduced her to tears in a ladies bathroom. "Guess you're never too old for new experiences," she mutters crossly to herself, using a wad of toilet paper to wipe at her eyes and blowing her nose angrily. "Happy fucking birthday to me," she says, voice strangled, clamping down on the sobs that want to escape.

She's so full of emotion that it's proving difficult to really sort it all out. And anyway, she hasn't got the time now, as she's got to go right back out there and endure the drive home with Robbie. It's enough to make a woman wish for a call saying they've found a dead body, and then she feels worse because honestly, no matter how sorry she's feeling for herself, that's just grim.

No, she thinks as she flushes the snotty paper down the loo, now is not the time to fall apart. Perhaps a long bath later. Laura's always worked out her thorniest problems in the bath, and tonight seems like a very good night to do so. She's nearly dead on her feet, and she'd planned on taking one anyway, so it won't seem out of the ordinary to Robbie. For a moment, she considers inviting James along to keep Robbie occupied while she thinks her way through this, but James has always had an uncanny ability to read her mood. Given the tumult within, perhaps tonight is not the best night to have the younger man over.

She washes her hands and then pats her face with cool water splashed on one of the paper towels from the dispensers, willing herself to calm down. After a few moments, she looks into the mirror to see the damage.

'Well, the physical damage, at any rate', she thinks to herself, surveying her reflection. She's still a bit flushed, and her eyes are tiny bit swollen, but nothing that she can't explain away easily. She closes her eyes, takes one last deep breath, and releases it as she heads back out into the corridor and resumes her journey to where Robbie's likely holed up in James' office.

"Knock, knock," she says lightly, tapping a knuckle against the doorframe before leaning up against it as she surveys those within. James, looking serious as ever. Lizzie, obviously looking forward to the end of the workday, as Laura can see a much less sensible pair of shoes and something that's glittering poking out of the top of her open backpack.

"Everyone ready for the weekend?" Both Lizzie and James are trying to be subtle about searching her face, but she ignores them in favour of her love, who's already standing and pulling on his suit jacket.

"I'm looking forward to working off this week out on the dance floor," Lizzie says with a grin. "I'm staying with friends in London."

James smiles, faintly. "Thought I'd go to 'Christmas by Candlelight' at Christ Church Cathedral tomorrow night."

"Sounds fun," Robbie says, shaking his head at the two of them, gently placing a hand on Laura's back as they head out the door. "Stay safe on the roads, both of you."

Lizzie and James smile indulgently, but don't scold Robbie for his caution. Lizzie's obviously been briefed by James on the significance of tomorrow's date in relation to Inspector Lewis.

Maybe if Laura herself had briefed Lizzie on the other reason the date is significant, she could've tagged along for some drinking and dancing, since obviously nothing is going to happen with Robbie to celebrate.

Laura slips her hand into Robbie's, just like always, as they walk towards the car, and smiles at him as he hands her into the passenger seat and closes the door. He's buckling his own seat belt and heading out of the carpark when she remembers. "I hope it's okay if I placed an order at that Japanese restaurant we like. I really don't feel like cooking tonight."

"You're not going to make me eat sushi, are you?" Robbie says with an exaggerated shudder.

"Oh hush, you know you like those rolls. But no, I got you some yakisoba and some extras I think you'll like, if you can bring yourself to try them." He's actually surprisingly open about trying new things, and had been very enthusiastic about this restaurant since the first time she'd managed to coax him in there.

Open about some things, she broods, as she waits in the car for Robbie to retrieve their dinner. Completely unable to let other things go, apparently. Is it healthy for him to still be so attached to his late wife? Is she harming him, harming their relationship by being so understanding, so supportive of his need to cling to what was?

Laura knows that having to tiptoe around him at this time of year, always thinking before she speaks and being as silently helpful as possible is beginning to weigh on her more than a touch. She doesn't like how waspish she feels inside, buzzing with a particularly ugly kind of rage, waiting for something to set her off so she can strike again and again, venting the venom on some poor, unsuspecting person.

Doesn't she deserve to be treated better? Though honestly, she tells herself, rolling her eyes and huffing in exasperation. He's hardly the worst specimen of humanity she's dated. In fact, she'd determined long ago that Robbie Lewis was a man worth waiting for. He's terribly intelligent, rather handsome to her eyes, kind and solid, and with a well-hidden, utterly wicked sense of humour.

He certainly has her number in bed, and a very self-satisfied smile graces her lips briefly before it fades as she bites her lip.

And he's obviously devoted to those he loves. His daughter and grandson are prime examples. Laura knows he still cares for his son very much, though they speak rarely.

And James. Of course James. Robbie's never had a problem remembering _James'_ birthday. "He's my awkward sod," after all, and after so much time spent with him, she rather thinks James is more like _their_ awkward sod at this point. And she can see signs of Robbie slowly folding Lizzie into their little family as well.

Robbie cares so much for those he cares about that it's nearly humbling. And it's one of the reasons she adores him. He's just such a good man when you get right down to it.

But is that devotion to his dead wife going to cost him his relationship with his live girlfriend? Laura just can't help feeling like she's never going to have all of him that she should, and that she deserves, and the thought is so acutely painful that she clutches herself tightly in an attempt to ease the pain it brings with it.

The car door opening has her consciously relaxing and trying to put her best face forward as Robbie hands her the bag of food. He smiles at her, then looks more closely with a frown. "All right, Laura?"

"I'm fine, Robbie. Just tired. I'd really like to get home, have a bath, maybe an early night. It was a long week."

He relaxes, nodding. Their paths had crossed in a professional capacity more than once this week, and she's glad they've caught the latest killer.

Robbie turns the music up just enough so that conversation isn't necessary, and she tilts her head back against the headrest and stares, unseeing, out the window for the remainder of the drive back to their home.

She'd honestly nearly given up on the idea of him as a romantic partner more than once during all those years of flirtation and, frankly, more than a touch of unresolved sexual tension. They'd grown closer and closer, and time and again had edged right up to the line between friendship and something more before he would get cold feet and back off.

Sometimes he'd retreat just a little. Cough to break a moment heavy with potential, or smile a bit and make a self-deprecating comment. All familiar signs that he wasn't quite ready to step over that line with her.

Other times he'd withdraw so far that she felt like she could barely reach him, like he wasn't really there, for all he'd be sitting across a pub table from her, drinking a pint and nodding in all the right places. It had been during one of these periods that Franco had returned, and she'd set aside her feelings for Robbie to explore the possibility of rekindling an old flame.

The spark had certainly been there with Franco, but Laura's heart burned for Robbie. In the end, she'd passed on the opportunity with Franco and resolved to wait for Robbie to really and truly be ready to move on. And hope that he'd want to move on with her.

And then, practically out of the blue, over a glass of brandy in the bar at the Randolph, he'd turned those blue eyes on her and she'd nearly dropped her drink at the look in them. She could scarcely believe that he was ready, but he'd kept hold of her hand after helping her over a fence, and she'd known. He was ready, and he was ready to make a go of it _with her_.

Her giddy realization was cut short by horror moments later, as Robbie dashed into a burning houseboat to save a young woman, but after they had made sure the girl was treated and on the way to hospital, she'd been unable to wait any longer. Reaching out, she'd pulled him into a fierce embrace.

"What's this?" he'd said teasingly, but a beat later, when he could feel her shaking in his arms, he'd dropped the humour. "Laura?"

"Sorry," she'd whispered into his chest. "I just... it was very frightening, Robbie, watching you do that."

He hadn't answered her, merely held her closer for a long, long time before they'd turned to head back to the station. He'd kept an arm around her shoulders though, and she had basked in his closeness and the comfort.

Shortly after that, they'd entered into a relationship properly, and she'd never been happier.

Has she made a mistake? Were they better as friends?

Nothing's resolved in her head or her heart as Robbie parks, and comes around to her side to open her door and take the food from her before offering her a hand out of the car. He keeps his hand in hers, squeezing gently as they walk up the path to the house, only letting go so he can open the door with the key on his ring.

She remembers the day she gave him that key. The smile on his face when he used it to let the movers in. How the sound of it turning in the lock will make something inside her skip with glee, because he's home. He's come back to their home for the night, to the place where they live. Where they eat, and sleep, and occasionally argue. Where they spend probably too much time on the comfortable couch in front of the telly, and where, if they're lucky, to the bed they'll lie upon together and not sleep.

They don't talk as they take care of coats, and Robbie gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze before he goes to turn the heat up. It is December, after all, and as warm, and merry, and bright as the tree and all the accoutrements of Christmas are, the physical temperature in the house could be higher. Laura makes her way to the kitchen, washing her hands before turning her attention to their dinner, and Robbie joins her moments later. It's only as they're plating up the food that she realizes there's no way she can actually eat while she's so twisted up inside. "Robbie, would you mind if I skipped dinner? It's this headache," she says, and she's not even lying. All she's managed to do is work herself into quite a state. "I'm so queasy that eating sounds like a terrible idea. Do you mind if I just head upstairs now?"

His back is to her and she can see his shoulders tighten before he sighs, deeply, turns around, and captures her hand again. "Do you feel up to a bit of talking first? Would you come and sit with me on the couch?" He tilts his head towards the living room and at her puzzled nod, leads the way with the bottle of wine under one arm and the glasses in his free hand.

They're settling in and gazing at the lights on the tree when he begins with, "I know you heard James and me talking. Lizzie saw you sprinting towards the ladies' room when she was coming back from getting a report from SOCO."

She inhales sharply in surprise. "Ah."

"'Ah'? That's it?"

"Well, what am I supposed to say, Robbie? That I was disappointed that the man I love can't recall my birthday? James was right, you know. It rather takes a lot of the shine off it if you have to remind someone."

"Why didn't you say anything before now?"

"I don't know? I mean… we. This," and she gestures to the space between them, "This was so new last year. I think…" She trails off for a long moment and stares at the tree. "I think," she says slowly. "I think I was afraid to bring it up because I didn't want confirmation that even after all this time, all these years, that Val might still be more important to you than I am," she finally says, quietly.

And there it is, finally, out in the open, not just to Robbie, but the truth of it feels like a blow to the stomach. She realises she has folded her arms protectively over her belly, and her heart is pounding. Her eyes tear up, but she's weirdly relieved that it's all about to come out into the open now that they've begun. She can feel Robbie reaching for her, but she holds up a hand to ward him off.

"It's just such an unlucky thing, my birthday being on the 19th," she says, voice rough with tears and emotion. "It's always been a day of celebration for me, and I don't know what to do now. I don't want to hurt you. I know this is the worst day of the year for you and I am so glad that I can be here to help. I just want to know, every once in a while, that I am one of the important people in your life. I want to walk with you on this path, Robbie." She can hear the raw note in her voice, is more than a bit frightened still, but soldiers on regardless.

"I want this day to be about my life, not about Val's death." She shudders, hard, at saying this out loud. "And maybe I should feel sorry about that, but I don't. I can't." She reaches out and cups his face, that beloved face with those glorious eyes that are shimmering with tears of his own. "We are here, Robbie. I know you will always love Val, and I know that you love me. But I thought," and here she has to pause and clear her throat of the lump forming in it. "I thought that when you chose me, you chose life. Our life. Together."

She pauses and searches his eyes for a sign, any sign, but all she can see is sorrow. "Was I wrong? About us?" she manages to force out through a throat gone tight with fear.

Robbie's shaking his head. "No, lass, you weren't wrong. It's just… it's hard."

"I know. I would never, ever ask you to forget her. She will always, always be a part of you. I just… I want to be more important than the memory of your wife to you, if you're going to be with me." And she can't stop the tears now. "And I feel horrible for making you choose, because I know how much you loved her. And I'm angry that I feel awful, and guilty that I'm angry, and it's all just such a mess." She suddenly clutches his hands tight, looking at him urgently. "You must know that if I could, I would give anything I have to have her here, with you, and to see you completely happy once more."

"Oh, Laura," he says as he reaches out and pulls her close, clutching her so tightly she can barely breathe. "Oh pet. I am happy. I am so very happy with you, Laura," he says hoarsely. He blinks, and the tears he can't help trail down his cheeks. "I would never give you up. Not even to get Val back. It's just today. Today is a hard day."

Laura's heart sinks as she cups his face and smooths the tears away with her thumbs. "I know. I know, love. And I do understand. I'm so sorry I've put us both through this tonight." She wraps her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair, and pulls him close.

Robbie's voice is rough when he answers after a long pause. "This is not your fault, it's mine. I haven't been fair to you. I haven't really committed, not in all this time. And I am sorry for that." He pulls back so he can see her face, but she can't bring herself to meet his eyes just yet. Distantly, she can feel herself shaking with emotion, and she dashes impatiently at the tears still falling down her cheeks. She's pushed too far, hasn't she? He's not going to be able to get past Val after all.

His next words, however, bring her startled eyes right back to his. "I love you, Laura Hobson. Val may be my past, but you're my future. And it's long past time that I started treating you properly."

And it's nearly a physical sensation, this feeling she has of a barrier that she didn't even know was there… vanishing. Robbie is completely, utterly open to her, his sorrow at Val's loss familiar by now. But what's new is the anguish, the misery she can see in his eyes, his face now that she instinctively knows he feels wretched because he's hurt her.

"You really mean that," she says, wonderingly.

"I do. And if you doubt what I feel for you, Laura, then that's my fault not yours. I'll be better at showing you from now on."

And she's crying harder than ever now, but they're tears of relief. She's not losing him after all.

They shuffle around until they're both lying down on the couch, and they both cry themselves out after some time. Laura feels curiously light, almost empty, and distantly she realises that this fear that's been named and purged this evening has been influencing her relationship with Robbie for longer than she thought.

Eventually they stir. "Sorry love, but I need the loo. Are you sure you won't have something to eat? You should have something, or your headache will be that much worse in the morning."

She smiles at him as she sits up. "Yes, but I'll just have a couple of pieces of my sushi, and then I'd like a bath. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Go on then." He heads to the bathroom and Laura makes good on her promise as she plucks up their glasses and the bottle of wine and makes her way to the kitchen. She eats a few mouthfuls of food, and is refreshing her glass to take into the bathroom when she feels Robbie's hands on her shoulder.

"I'll bring this. You go ahead and get in."

So she does. She's just settled back with a sigh when he knocks on and peers around the door. "Wine?"

"Wine," she says, reaching for the glass he holds out. To her surprise, he nods at the bathmat. "Mind if I join you?"

"No, not at all," she murmurs, and smiles wider when he sets his plate of food on the counter before lowering himself to sit next to the tub. He carefully reaches up and retrieves his plate, along with his own glass of wine.

"I didn't get lunch. Hope you don't mind if I eat while you're soaking," he says, fork already busy in the nest of noodles on his plate.

And it's just so ridiculously domestic, so very matter of fact and very Robbie that she bursts into giggles. He smiles around his mouthful, gazing at her with an openness, an honesty that she's never seen before.

A wall she didn't know existed between them has fallen this evening, and she's filled with an incredible sense of wonder. She can feel the difference between them. He's really, truly, finally hers. She feels like she's just taken the most enormous gamble of her life, and she's won. He's wide open emotionally, and she can't help but respond in the same way. She feels surrounded by his love for her, his touch more soothing than the bath she was so desperately craving earlier.

They sit that way for what feels like hours, holding hands, smiling shyly at one another and letting loose with the occasional disbelieving, giddy sort of giggle. They've been gazing at one another fondly for long enough that she's refreshed the water once, and is contemplating doing so again before a huge yawn surprises her and he nods, decisively. "Bed, I think. Stay there a moment, yeah?"

She nods and he turns away, taking the plate back to the kitchen and returning with, of all things, towels he's warmed in the tumble dryer. He helps her out of the bath and tenderly dries her off, then wraps her in those gloriously warm towels. "Brush your teeth while I deal with the tub, and I'll meet you in the bedroom."

She nods sleepily, and after a quick pass with the toothbrush, wanders down the hall to their bed. She hangs the towel on a hook on the back of the door and slides naked under the covers, relaxing even more when she realizes that he's indulged her by turning on the electric blanket so it's nice and warm against the December chill.

She nearly dozes off to the sound of the shower, but is just awake enough to smile at him as he ditches his own towel and slides in with her, gathering her close so her cheek is resting on the bare skin of his chest. She sighs, contentedly, revelling in the sensation of skin on skin, and trails a finger through the hair on his chest.

What a day. But it's not quite over yet, and he surprises her with one last question.

"Laura?" he asks as he cards a hand through her hair. "Will you go with me, tomorrow, when I go to see Val?" He reaches out and tips her chin up so he can see her eyes.

"Of course I will," she says. An observer might think it a bit odd, her going with Robbie to visit his wife's grave. But she's okay with it, really, being there with him as he takes some time to remember what was. She knows what it means to him. In all the time they've known one another, he's never once asked her to go with him, and she can feel the truth behind the request - that this is his way honouring both of the women he's given his heart to, of letting her into that final part of his heart that's been closed to her until now.

Robbie's own relief is shining through his eyes, is being communicated through every touch as he arranges the covers over them both. "Thank you." He brushes the knuckles of one hand over the back of her cheek. "I don't ever want you to doubt how I feel about you, Laura. Do you remember that time in the pub where you said to me, 'People don't know how you feel about them, unless you tell them?', or some such?"

Laura nods, slowly. She remembers that moment well. She's never seen any real evidence that he'd taken her advice to heart, though god knows he and James communicate best by non-verbal means, most of the time.

"I'll do better with you on that. It may take me a while to get the hang of it. You know I'm not very good with words, most of the time. But I promise I'll try," he says softly.

She smiles as she traces a heart shape over the middle of his chest with a finger. "Thank you, love. I know it isn't easy for you, and part of me feels like I shouldn't need to hear you say it more often. But I do."

"I do have a little something for you, by the way," Robbie murmurs into her hair. "I'd planned on giving it to you on Sunday, but if you'd like you can open it over breakfast tomorrow? And have a think on this – what would you say to taking a long weekend away somewhere? Not a true holiday, because I think both our diaries are probably too full to get away for more than a couple of days. But after we visit Val, maybe we can come back here and look on the internet at some places. It might be too cold to go to the seaside at this time of year, but we could book a romantic cottage. Go see the northern lights in Norway? Ballet in Vienna? Or if you DO want a beach, maybe we could fly to somewhere warm on the continent and laze around in the sun for a few days. Lizzie mentioned some place in Turkey that she thought would be a great deal. What would you think about that?"

She feels like she's radiating happiness when she nods and moves up enough to brush a kiss over his lips. "I think that sounds like the perfect way to spend the day, love."

Unfortunately a huge yawn rather ruins the romance of the moment, and they both chuckle a bit as she burrows a bit closer, squeezing him around the middle as she closes her eyes. "Good night, Robbie."

His whisper and the feel of his lips against her forehead are the last things she knows before she drifts off to sleep.

"Happy birthday, bonny lass."

* * *

 _Laura Hobson's a Sagittarius, per the episode "Dark Matter". What if her birthday is on 19 December?_

This was one of those random thoughts my brain likes to throw up at me every now and again. This time it was on twitter, months and months ago, during a re-watch of the episode "Dark Matter". THANKS BRAIN.

Title from the line Robbie says to Val at her grave in the episode "Quality of Mercy", as well as Val's canon date of death of 19 December.

If I have to cry, I want to share the pain. Pass the tissues, yeah?

Comments always appreciated.


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